


A Coat of Arms

by justinlovesart



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justinlovesart/pseuds/justinlovesart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-513 ficlet focused on Emmett and Ted. Other canonical characters and pairings appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Coat of Arms

The restaurant is perched on top of the Duquesne incline, its floor-to-ceiling windows suspended over the night view of Pittsburgh.

“It’s breathtaking,” Ted, says, sitting next to Emmett.

Emmett blinks a couple of times, shaking himself out of his brief reverie. “This is why I’ve chosen the Bella Vista for tonight. And because the Piccolo brothers insisted so much.”

“Didn’t you, ahem, have a thing with one of them, once?” Ted lowers his voice and looks quickly around the room, but Calvin is safely cornered by Debbie. She’s entertaining him with stories of past rehearsal dinners (“A water buffalo, for god’s sake! I didn’t have the heart to return it, in the end.”)

“Two of them, dear Teddy. I fucked the two oldest brothers and I only turned down Gino because I wasn’t sure he was quite legal.” He sighs. “Ah, old times..."

Is it wistfulness that Ted hears in Emmett’s voice? Regret? 

“But Em, if you’re not sure... If you’d rather not do it...”

Emmett waits for him to continue. 

“What I mean is that it’s not too late to call it off.” He feels guilty as he looks towards Calvin, who is now nodding at something Hunter is saying, or rather showing him: a bicep curl? A backstroke? 

Emmett understands. “Oh, no, it’s not about Calvin. Not at all!” Even as he mentions his fiancé’s name, a glow of tenderness spreads across his face, which would go almost unnoticed if Ted didn’t know him so well. He remembers when he could put that glow there. 

“I _adore_ my Southern beau,” he continues. “He was my first crush, my school days dream. And now it’s all come true.” 

There are things about Emmett, Ted realizes, that he’ll never be able to share, no matter how close they are and will always be. His past for one, which Ted imagines filled with long hot afternoons and the sound of cicadas, Auntie Lula’s blueberry pies and, as the years passed, the low hum of desire and something like fear at the pit of his stomach. As for his own childhood, Ted mostly remembers a comfortable dullness interrupted by his mother’s smiles and her shy singing of Puccini’s arias when she thought she was alone.

“But you don’t _have_ to marry him,” he insists. _Especially not if it's because Blake and I did it_ , he wants to add, but doesn’t.

Emmett, of course, reads him only too well. “Teddy, sweetie, it’s me we’re talking about. Only because I have fond memories of my sluttish days doesn’t mean I’m not as romantic as the latest Nora Roberts trilogy.”

They both look out of the window, taking in this city of rivers and bridges that looks so familiar and yet always a little new, depending on where they stand. The buzz of the party behind them is growing a little louder with each fresh drink and Ted is almost sure he’s overheard Brian challenging Mel to do a handstand. 

“Culpepper and Honeycutt,” Emmett enunciates, slowly, not for the first time in the last few weeks. “Honey and pepper.”

“You could have your own coat of arms,” Ted considers. “A pepper shaker crossed with a honey spoon.”

“Mounted over a rainbow-colored shield.”

“Topped by the King of Babylon crown.”

“Oh no, Justin would never relinquish his crown!”

They smile at each other and Ted feels that perhaps his friend doesn’t need rescuing. “Too bad he couldn’t be here for the rehearsal dinner.”

Emmett nods. “But he’ll come for the wedding. Besides, he sent those beautiful golden gardenias.” He points at the centerpiece on the large round table. “Brian has been sniffing them all night.”

“I know. I'm pretending not to notice in case he decides to fire me.”

They look in Brian’s direction and this time they notice a brow arched at them. It’s time to join the revelries again.

Emmett takes Ted’s hands in his and Ted is reminded of how much he envies him this ease, this openness about feelings and showing them.

“Teddy.” There is a seriousness in his old lover’s voice that comes as a rare treat these days, one he’s glad he hasn’t lost the right to hear. “I am happy. Truly and deeply. And maybe I’m a little scared because I’ve been this happy before and it didn’t last.”

“Drew?” Ted dares to ask.

Emmett nods. “Drew, yes. Who knew that spreading his wings would turn him into such a hardcore bottom?”

They laugh together. 

“Drew,” Emmett repeats, “and George.” Then he squeezes Ted’s hands a little harder. “And you.” Because Emmett is brave, and Ted wishes he could tell him that. 

“You still have me,” he says, instead, meaning it absolutely, despite the shaky voice.

Emmett pulls him into a hug that gets them catcalls and whistles from the peanut gallery (“Theodore, if I have to return my wedding gift, you’re fired.”) 

“I know,” he whispers into Ted’s ear. “And you’ll be dashing, walking me down the aisle.”


End file.
